


Flowers in the sidewalk

by TwoBrothersOnAHotelBed



Category: Original Work
Genre: Friendship, Gen, I did, Post-Apocalypse, Romance, Romantic Friendship, Social Commentary, Survival, i mean if you choose to see it that way, idk i tried guys, implied asexuality, ish, non-sexual romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 12:16:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13880691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoBrothersOnAHotelBed/pseuds/TwoBrothersOnAHotelBed
Summary: In the end, they had each other. For them, that was enough. It had to be.





	Flowers in the sidewalk

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So this is my first time posting on here, but I wrote this quite a while ago on my computer and was pretty proud of it so I decided to post it on here. I left the majority of it vague on the gender of the characters on purpose, although I do reveal them at the end (I wasn't sure if I wanted to give them genders at all, but kind of left it so that I could change their genders, should I so choose), and I'm vague on what they look like so you can imagine them however you want to. They're somewhere around the ages of 15-17. No beta, so all mistakes belong to me. Leave a comment and let me know whether or not it's any good! Enjoy!

They sit in the arch of the front doorway, watching the rain fall to the Earth. Thinking of their past, pondering their future. Wondering how plants could ever begin to once again grow, through the four inches of ash blanketing the ground in front of them.

 

“Do you think it could happen?”

 

“What could happen?”

 

“That we could ever have a future again?”

 

The question lingers between them, viciously hanging on to the last strings of hope that they desperately attempt to keep. It disappears into the air, the answer being replaced with a question of its own. A bitter laugh, “Do you think we even had a future to begin with? We were born with the whole world turning down their noses at us, into a system designed to keep us in the sludge of society. We were never anything more than the ugly by-product of a machine built to remove dirt from those deemed worthy of receiving baths.”

They never deserved what had happened. They may not have had much, but they had something, family, friends, pets, whatever few possessions they were lucky enough to call their own. Now they had nothing. Nothing but Ash, falling from forever grey skies, dimmed sunlight trying to peek through the remnants of a fallen world, blackened trees, and houses left in shambles.

 

Nothing but each other.

 

There was no reply.

 

~`~`~`~`~

 

 

They used to cry. Slowly slipping away from the other in the dark of the night, not wanting to show vulnerability. They would cry for their loss, for their parents and siblings, their friends and that kid down the street they didn’t know the name of but always said hi to. Then they would cry together, huddled on the floor, silently weeping for each others loss, clinging to each other more and more tightly as the sobs got louder. They never talked after those night, throats raw and eyes red. But they said thank you through their movements, grabbing one another, pressing their foreheads together and simply breathing.

 

_I’m sorry too. I wish I could give them back to you._

 

After a while, they stop crying.

~`~`~`~`~

 

“You need a haircut.”

 

An eyebrow rises, “You don’t look too pretty yourself.”

The reply comes with an eye roll, “I’m serious. If I see you try to flip your hair out of your face one more time, I might just shave your head while you’re sleeping.”

 

“I’ll see if I can find something,” the response is muffled by food,”Now shut up and eat your breakfast.”

 

“Ew, close your mouth. Do you want me to lose my breakfast _before_ I get a chance to eat it?”

A snort comes from across the broken piece of wood they call a table, “Not my fault if you got a weak stomach, more for me.”

 

~`~`~`~`~

 

 

Whenever it rains, they can’t leave from under whatever remaining roof is left on the house. The rain is mixed with ash falling from the sky, and mixes with more ash when it hits the ground. It rains a lot. They do their best to cover up as many holes in the building as they can but sheets don’t stop the rain, just slow it down. Its worse when it rains at night, they have to use their only two tarps to cover the holes over the bed and what’s left of the kitchen, which is mostly a sink and a few counters with cupboards built into them. Sometimes they move the table farther away, sometimes they don’t have the energy.

Most nights, such as this night, they just light a few candles and hide away in a corner under a blanket.

“I love you.”

A pause. “I know.”

The silence hangs heavy between them, a tension found all too easily in what could be said next.

“I’ll never be in love with you.”

 

“I know.”

 

The tension dissipates as long fingers find each other, locking together, and lips are pressed to a forehead in a dry kiss. “But I’ll always love you,” is whispered quietly into long, dirty hair.

 

No other words are spoken, the silence saying more than words ever could, as they sit and listen to the rain.

 

~`~`~`~`~

 

They venture into cities once every two weeks or so, looking for food, shelter, other survivors. The first is getting scarcer.

 

“Why is it that we never see other people, but the food keeps disappearing?” Dust and ash float through the air as pieces of wood and metal are overturned, revealing nothing other than more dust and ash. A cough from somewhere across the room, “The larger the cities are, the more people there were, the less food there’ll be. And whatever people are left, are probably dying off one by one.”

A snort, followed by a series of coughs and a string of profanities, “Could you be anymore depressing?”

 

“You asked.” More pieces of fallen debris are moved.

 

“True. Jackpot!” There’s a grunt, followed by the sound of something heavy falling and a cough.

 

“You okay?” Quick, careful feet make their way over to the source of the cough.

 

“Yeah I’m fine,” A flailing hand waves away the concern, “Look what I found.”

 

In front of them sits a large freezer box, dented but fully intact, and locked shut.

They find a thin piece of pipe that they use to pry off the lock and open the freezer.

Inside sits a large array of various boxed and canned foods that are intact, covered in a thin layer of dust, but ash free.

 

“Hell yeah!” A hand is held up in an offer of a high five. The hand is forgotten, arms thrown over shoulders in a hug instead. They stand side by side, staring at their newfound treasure chest. “Tonight we eat like kings!”

 

A smile fades, “How are we going to haul all of this back to the house?”

 

“Just trust me. Hope you like walking, ‘cause its two miles to the house and back, and all of this isn’t going to fit in one cart.”

 

~`~`~`~`~

 

 

Three weeks later they sit in their house, watching the wind blow from outside. They moved houses four days ago, found one almost fully intact, with an actual bed (not just a mattress lying on the floor) and a roof without holes in it. As they sit and stare at the world outside of their tiny shelter, they become glad that they decided to change houses.

 

“I can’t see a single thing,” an awed voice says through the howling.

 

“We’re looking at the same thing, neither can I.”

 

“I know. How fast do you think its blowing?”

 

The answer is pondered for a moment, “Fifty at least, maybe sixty. How this house hasn’t blown away yet is the real question.” The house creaks as the words are said. A hand flaps, the owners eyes never leaving the vision of grey set outside the window before them, “Shhhhh, don’t jinx us. It’ll stay standing as long as you don’t question it.”

A chuckle is the only response received as the voice slides behind them, wrapping their arms and legs around a shivering body.

“I’ve never seen winds like this either,” The soft statement is said from a head that rests on a shoulder, eyes half closed in comfort.

 

“When do you think it will stop?” The question holds no worry, only the promise of adventure.

 

“A couple of hours, probably. You’ll have to wait for the ash to settle before you go taking off to explore the damage.”

 

Fingers reach back to run through freshly washed and cut hair, “I know. Are you going to come with me?”

 

A small kiss is pressed to the joint between shoulder and neck, “Of course. Can’t let you have all of the fun.”

 

It’s just the first in a long line of windy days, but you only experience something for the first time once. They enjoy it for what it is.

 

 

~`~`~`~`~

 

 

After the wind dies down and the ash settles, they go outside. The first thing they notice is how much less ash there is. What was once a many inches thick layer is now but a dusting, letting them see things they haven’t been able to view in a long time. They can see signs on buildings, the license plate numbers on cars and decorations on houses. They walk around the city for hours, just looking, remembering. They sit after a while, on the hood of an old Chevy, not even caring that they’re covered in dirt of every kind.

For the first time the sun shines and it isn’t covered by a heavy, suffocating layer of grey.

 

“Hey, Michael?”

 

A sigh, “Yes James?”

 

“You know I wasn’t ever in love with you right?”

 

Michael laughs, “I do now. Maybe not back then, but I do now.”

 

“I do love you though.”

 

“I know, James. I love you too.”

They sit for a long time, until the sun starts to go down. They hop off of the hood of the Chevy and start walking back home.

 

 

As they go back through the city, James grabs a hold of Michaels hand and stops him.

“ _Do_ you think we have a future?”

 

Michael looks behind James, at the sun going behind the horizon, the buildings around them and the broken sidewalk below them, and pauses. Between his feet stands a daisy, tall and proud, growing through the concrete, having created its own crack in the cement.

He starts walking again, pulling James with him. Michael throws his arm around his shoulder, bringing him closer as James throws an arm around his waist.

 

“I think we do. I mean, if flowers can grow in the sidewalk, then anything is possible, right?”

##  Fin

## 


End file.
